


You Can Do Better

by Violet_showstopper



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, 2ptalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Human AU, I don't wanna say slow burn cause idk how much more I'm gonna write, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn, alfred just wants to help, allen is mean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-26 19:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16687780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_showstopper/pseuds/Violet_showstopper
Summary: Alfred knows better, and so does Allen.As in, Alfred knows he shouldn't fall for people who keep finding themselves hunched over the bar, and Allen knows that he should stop drinking so much, and yet....





	1. Chapter 1

Allen woke up on the floor of a club, sucking in a sharp gasp of probably contaminated air. He sat up slowly, squinting against the lights. The club was quiet and empty,yet it was still dark outside. Confused and irritated, he let out a soft groan.

“Finally, you’re awake.” Came a soft voice. He turned his head, squinting to find a blonde, glasses adorned guy behind the bar of the club, smiling sympathetically at him. “Sleep good?”

Allen muttered something incomprehensible, closing his eyes again. After a few moments, he reached up and grasped one of the bar stools, pulling himself up to stand, swaying a bit. The night before was a mess of foggy memories in his head, most of them didn’t add up. It felt almost like the whole night had been one really wild dream that was quickly slipping away from him. Or maybe he was still drunk.

“I was actually about to wake you up,” the blonde spoke again, moving around the counter and gently pressing a hand to his lower back, easing him into the seat. “I was getting worried you weren’t gonna wake up. Can I get you something?” 

Finally, Allen managed to speak, mouth feeling dry and full of cotton. “Water,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes. Oliver was going to throw a goddamn  _ fit  _ at him for  not coming home on time. Allen pulled out his phone to check the messages, only to find that it was dead. Damn. 

“D’ya have a charger?” He asked. 

“I have an iPhone charger?” The blonde offered, sliding the glass of cool water in front of him. 

“Mm. I have android.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Allen just shrugged, downing the water and rubbing his forehead. From what he could piece together from his memories of the night before, he could safely assume he arrived with a group of friends, got plastered, and then they left him. Bastards. 

“Can I give you a ride home, maybe?” The bartender offered, flashing him a charming smile. “I’m all packed up, anyways. It wouldn’t be h-”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” 

Allen didn’t even bother catching the guy’s name before he was clambering into his car. The car ride was mostly silent, with the bartender attempting to make awkward conversation with him. Allen, being the ass he was, was just trying to stay awake. 

He got hell from Oliver when he got home. Whatever, he didn’t really care, passing right back out on the couch.

~

Allen found himself at that some bar not even a week later. This time, alone, slumped over the bar with his arms crossed over the top. 

“Hey, rockstar,” chimed a familiar voice and Allen looked up, meeting the eyes of the same bartender that drove him home. This time- maybe it was the liquor- he found himself smiling at him. Had this guy’s eyes always been that blue? Damn. 

“Heyy, sunshinee,” Allen slurred ridiculously, sitting up straighter. Though the music loud and atmosphere hot, Allen couldn’t keep his eyes off this guy. 

“All alone tonight?” He asked, and Allen nodded his head, ignoring how the room shook around him obnoxiously. 

“Jus’ me. Hey, did I ever catch your name? I bet it’s gorgeous.” 

The blonde chuckled a bit, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Alfred.” 

“Alfred...” Allen repeated, saying it a few more times to himself. “Alfred, Alfred, Alfred…”

“What’s yours?”

“Allen, but you can call me mine.” 

Alfred snorted at the nonsensical sentence but just nodded. “Do you want a refill on your drink?” 

“Yes s,  _ pleasee,”  _

\-----

Without knowing how, Allen woke up in his bed the next morning feeling somehow rested. 

 

~

Shots with friends was less fun knowing that these same friends had left him passed out on the club floor the last time they went drinking. Well, in their defense, Allen had a habit of going home with people. They probably couldn’t find him and just assumed he was warming somebody’s bed. Which was fair, but still depressing. 

“Hey, sugar!” Allen yelled over the noise, waving down Alfred, who grinned at him and approached.

“Hey, loverboy,” Alfred greeted, pouring the friend group a round of shots, much to the cheering. When the group became distracted by something else- probably one of the strip shows starting, Alfred leaned towards Allen. “Are you gonna have a ride home tonight?” he asked in a soft voice, expression serious. 

It made Allen’s heart melt, and he shrugged, smiling big. “I guess we’ll find out.” And he knocked back a shot.

\-----

“Why do you hang out with those guys?” Alfred asked in the car, eyes focused on the road. Allen was slumped in the passenger seat, drunkenly bobbing along to the rock music playing on the radio. It was late, and Allen hadn’t gotten a ride home. Which had really upset Alfred- what kind of friends didn’t check on their friend before leaving?! Alfred barely knew this guy, but it still got him worked up. 

“What? They’re my friends. They’re a lil mean but like, it’s fine.” 

“How did you get home before I started driving you home?” Alfred asked, eyebrows drawing closer together. He ignored the groan from Allen when he reached over and turned the loud, Green Day-esque music down. 

“Why’s it matter, sunshine? I got home eventually.”

This conversation was going nowhere. He sighed, continuing to drive and allowing Allen to turn the music up again. He could always try talking to him later, when he was sober.....

“Do you wanna crash at my place tonight?” Alfred asked after a while, chewing his lip anxiously. 

Allen jerked a bit, a laugh escaping him. “Are you makin’ a pass at me? I never thought I’d see the day!” 

“No!” Alfred said quickly, ignoring the heat rising quickly to his cheeks in embarrassment. “I-I just never see you when you’re sober and I wanna get to know you better, and I don’t have your number or anythin-” 

“Yeah, you wanna  _ get to know me better,”  _ Allen said suggestively, before just laughing and nodding. “whatever makes you happy, sunshine.” 

~

Sunshine from a large window woke Allen up in the morning, a groan leaving him as a hangover pounded behind his eyes. He curled up, knowing he wasn’t in a place he knew, but that was something for him to deal with later. 

He finally dragged himself up, blinking at his surroundings. A cozy, carpeted room that looked like a guest bedroom. The carpet was soft beneath his feet, trudging across the room to poke his head out into the hallway. Slowly, he recalled the events from the night before. Alfred had driven him to his house, he’d crashed in the guest room. Okay. Sounded fine enough, he just had to get out before- 

“Allen!” Came a bright voice, and Allen cringed, tilting his head to spot the sunny blonde down the hall, at the top of the stairs. “I was just coming to wake you up. I made breakfast.” 

“Pass.”

Alfred blinked owlishly a few times, obviously having not expected such a curt response. “What?” 

“No thanks. I think I’ll go home.” 

“Wait- but you said-”

“What I say drunk does means nothing.” Briefly, he thought about how good getting drunk sounded before he left the room and pushed past Alfred, trying to find his shoes. 

“Allen...!” Alfred sounded genuinely hurt, frowning at him.  

“Thanks for letting me crash last night, but I’ve gotta go. Have a good day, sunshine.” And the door closed hard behind him, leaving Alfred alone and feeling like shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk if I'm gonna continue this, I'm not even sure how to. I just wrote this really fast cause I got a spark of inspiration.
> 
> Comments > Kudos


	2. Chapter 2

_Maybe this was a bad idea_ , Alfred thought to himself, standing on the front porch to Allen's house, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

Allen hadn't returned to the club since their breif "conversation" at Alfred's house two weeks ago, and if he was being completely honest, that was a bit worrying.

Well, maybe that was for the best? Allen seemed like he had a problem, but...Eugh. Alfred was worried.

He anxiously shook the thoughts from his brain and finally knocked, chewing his lip nervously. What if Allen wasn't home? What if Allen was avoiding him?! Just as he was really starting to regret this, the door unlocked and a man who definitely wasn't Allen answered.  
Instead, there in the threshold stood a short, chubby man with dark red hair.

His expression was pulled into a little frown, and he somehow looked like he just woke up despite it being almost noon. Either that, or he wasn't getting much sleep.

How he'd never seen this man before, was a mystery.

"Um," Alfred spoke up lamely, "I'm looking for Allen?"

The man's eyes narrowed suspiciously.  
"Why?"

"I'm one of his friends, and I- I haven't seen him in a while? So I was- I wanted to see him."

The man gave him a once over. "Are you the one always bringing him home?"

"Yeah."

He moved aside. "Upstairs, second door on the right. He's in a bad mood."

Alfred nodded and stepped inside. The house was nicely decorated and homey, he'd never seen it in the light before and the shift in atmosphere was strange, but welcome.

He took the stairs two at a time and when he came to the door, he knocked a few times. There was a muffled groan from the other side and he heard Allen talking as he approached the door.

"Oliver, seriously, I don't wanna fuckin' talk ab-" Allen's sentence stopped cold when he swung open the door and was met with Alfred.

"Hey, rockstar," Alfred said hesitantly, watching Allen glance back and forth between his face and the flowers. "I haven't seen you in a while, I was worried."

"I...Oliver let you in?"

"Yes?"

Allen frowned, not saying anything right away. "Even though I was an asshole to you, you're still worried about me? Jesus..."

Alfred flinched, pulling the flowers close to his chest. "I- I'm sorry, I'm probably overstepping, huh? I mean, for all I know you've been avoiding me and I just show up here- uh, listen, I'll just go..." He began to turn to walk away, but Allen's hand flew out, grabbing his arm.

"Wait! Wait, I, sorry, that was rude."

Before he knew what was happening, Allen tugged him into his room and closed the door behind him.

"So...What have you been up to?" Alfred asked, looking around before deciding to settle in office chair at Allen's desk. Allen swiped the flowers from his hands and settled them on the nightstand, both confident and unsteady in his movements. Alfred frowned. He was probably drunk.

"Nothin', really. Nothing important, anyways," Allen said, and sure enough, cracked open a beer he'd produced from the top drawer of his nightstand. "Why?"

"Because I haven't seen you in a while, and you're my friend."

"Am I?"

"I'd like to think so." Alfred nodded. Allen just rolled his eyes a little, and silence fell between the two of them again.

"You and I should go do something," Alfred broke the silence, and Allen looked up, almost surprised.

"What? Why?"

"'Cause we're friends and that's what friends do. We, um, we can go ice skating!" Alfred was grinning now, standing up.

"Wait, when? I can't ice skate-"

"We can go now! I'll drive, and I can teach you. Trust me, it'll be fun." He grinned, grabbed Allen's free hand, and pulled him up.

After all, nothing could go wrong with ice skating! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo the next chapter is gonna b fun 
> 
> & longer cause ill have my laptop back 
> 
> Ty for reading!!


	3. Chapter 3

Apparently a lot could go wrong with ice skating. 

Allen  _knew_ he wasn't going to be good at ice skating. He knew even better that Alfred was going to be better than him. So why it was such a surprise that he kept falling on his ass was a mystery. 

"I'm not going back out there!" Allen was saying, butt planted firmly on the cold floor outside the rink, arms crossed over his chest. He was drunk enough that his body had a warm buzz about it, but apparently not enough to have a good mood about this whole deal. 

"C'mon," Alfred whined, standing on his ice skates with a balance to be desired from Allen. "try again, okay? I won't let you fall this time!" He insisted, holding a hand out for Allen- an all too familiar sight. 

Allen huffed a little bit, staring at the blondes hand before pulling himself up with it. His legs woobled unsteadily, and he would have gone down again if Alfred hadn't kept a steady hand on him. Alfred was grinning at him. 

"See? I got you." 

Maybe it was the alcohol that made Alfred's smile sweet enough to warm him- maybe it was just because Alfred was  _so goddamn cute._

That feeling was quickly bashed into fear when they started moving, Allen clinging tightly onto Alfred and cursing up a storm. 

Allen was barely moving, being guided along with Alfred's warm hands and even warmer words of encouragement. 

By the time they made one lap around the rink (the first full one!) Allen had almost got the hang of it. Almost being the key word. He ended up getting a bit too cocky, letting go of Alfred's arm, and immediately tumbling hard onto the ground. 

Alfred, having not expecting this, fell to the ground too in a vain attempt at catching Allen. They fell together on the ice in a fit of laughter. 

You said you'd catch me!" Allen said through laughter, smacking the ball of his hand against Alfred's shoulder. 

"I tried! You fell too fast!" Alfred shot back affectionately pulling himself up to sit on his knees. 

By the time they both calmed down, Allen's face was flush from both the cold and the laughter. 

"Okay, sunshine. I think I've had en-" 

Allen couldn't finish his sentence, catching a sudden change in demeanor of Alfred. His shoulders had suddenly tensed, back going straight. His eyes were trained on the other side of the rink, and when Allen turned to look, he saw a admittedly handsome man with green eyes squeezing on some skates in the bleacher area. He was with with another, taller man with hair so blonde it almost looked white. 

"Shit," Alfred cursed, taking the fence bit of the rink and using it to pull him and Allen up. Allen's eyebrows screwed together in confusion. 

"What?" 

"That's my ex," Alfred hissed, ducking his head down like it would make him less inconspicuous. 

"Which one?" he asked, glancing over again and face warming up in both amusement and...embarrassment when Alfred responded "Both." 

That's rough. 

It made it even worse that they'd decided to lace up their skates near where Allen and Alfred had placed their stuff. 

"That sucks ass, dude," Allen said unhelpfully, and got a nasty look from Alfred. "let's just get our stuff and go, who gives a shit about them." 

Alfred gave a resigned sigh, glancing at the two and then back at Allen. Allen felt something dip in the pit of his stomach. Was Alfred ashamed of him? Suddenly he really wanted a drink. 

The pair uneasily made it back over to their stuff, Allen dropping down first and nearly wrenching off the stupid skates. He did his best to ignore the weird, uncharacteristic silence from Alfred. 

Finally, the silence was broken, but not by Allen or Alfred. 

"Hello, Alfred," the admittedly pretty blonde greeted, looking up briefly from the skate. 

"Afternoon, Arthur," Alfred grumbled, not looking up. 

Allen managed to tune out what he assumed to be a very awkward conversation, instead digging out one of those tiny bottles of whiskey from his bag and quickly drinking it down, out of habit, mainly. When he tuned back in, Arthur was looking at him almost expectantly. He'd been asked a question. 

"What?" He said through the burn in his throat. The embarrassed look Alfred was giving him burned more.

"I asked how you were doing," Arthur repeated the same way a parent talks to a child that just got caught doing something bad. Allen decided all at once that he didn't like this guy. "Not that great if you're already drinking, " he continued and Allen cracked a forced grin. 

"It's five-o'clock somewhere," he responded, forcing down jealousy as Arthur rose to his feet on the skates like it's no problem.  

"Are you two together?" The other man asked and Alfred responds "no" faster than Allen would have liked him to. He should have brought more whiskey. 

"Maybe that's for the best," Arthur said quiet enough that he briefly believed that the words were only meant for him to hear. 

"Excuse me?" Allen said, ruining the attempt as he immediately rose to defense. This guy had no business telling him what was good and what wasn't good for him, especially since he had the gall to- 

"Or maybe it is. Alfred's always had a knack for fixing broken things. I'll see you two around." And the couple slid off onto the ice, leaving Allen angry and confrontational, and Alfred...something Allen couldn't really detect. 

Alfred ushered him out before anything else could be said, a comforting hand pressed to his lower back. The two of them ended back in Alfred's car, radio filling in the silence between them. 

"Why-" they both started to say at the same time, then both stopping sharply. 

"You go fi-" 

"You can go first, it wasn't that important-"

Another thick silence. 

"Was this a date?' Allen asked eventually. It wasn't one of the questions he wanted to ask (what did Arthur mean, how many people have you dated, do you even like me) but it was a start. 

"No," Alfred answered quickly. 

Allen ignored the pain in his chest. "Why not?" 

"I'm not dating an alcoholic." 

"I'm not an alcoholic!" Said too quickly, too defensively. "I- how _dare_ you!"

"Allen, I've seen you sober once."

"What was this, then? You stringing me along for fun?!" Allen demanded, heart clenching uncomfortably. He told himself that this doesn't upset him at all, this is fine. 

"I want to help you!" Alfred said, hackles raised. The song on the radio was top cheery. He turned it off. 

"Why? Will you date me if I'm sober?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm not a pleasant person when I'm sober." 

"You're not pleasant right now, and I'd say that you're pretty drunk." 

"Bitch." 

"Alkie." 

"Hey!" 

"You know I'm right. Get sober, then we can talk. I'll even help you." 

Allen thought back to Arthur, and frowned deeply for a few moments. A second of silence and Allen let out a groan. 

"Fine. You promise you won't fuck off if I can't do it?" 

"No." 

Allen let out a hard laugh. "Okay. Fair enough."

It couldn't be worse than Oliver just making him feel bad for himself. 

"Promise me you'll try, though?" 

"I promise." 

And that's how Allen finally got on the path of getting sober. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allen just needs some tough love 
> 
> Comments > kudos 
> 
> Ty for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

"Okay!" Alfred started, grinning big at Allen, who was situated on the other side of the table and looking...Uncomfortable, to say the least. But that was okay, once he revealed the schematics to operation  _Get Allen Sober,_ there was no way Allen was going to back out! The two of them already made it far enough to get Allen temporarily sober for this "meeting" (which took a lot on Allen's part, Alfred was genuinely proud of him), so it could only go up from here. 

As soon as Alfred rolled out the sheet of paper across the table, Allen let out a  _very_ extensive groan. "I dunno if I can do this..." Allen grumbled, rubbing his face. He'd been bouncing his leg for the last few minutes, obviously having a hard time keeping still. "One drink? Please, Alfred, then I'll listen." 

"No!" Alfred insisted, shaking his head. "Have you ever read  _If You Give A Mouse A Cookie_?" 

Allen gave him a weird expression. "No?"

"Well- it's, it's like, you'll want one drink now and then it'll turn to two drinks, then three, then you're drunk."

"I don't get drunk that fast, blondie."

Alfred huffed, pointing at the paper he'd rolled out across the table. He'd used one of his brothers big papers for this, and "borrowed" his fancy markers. So everybody knew that he was really taking this seriously- a man with copic markers knew what he was talking about. The paper already had a line drawn across it from Alfred, one end labeled "Allen does alcohol" and the other labeled "Allen stops doing alcohol."  The space between those two points were blank.

"I thought we could work out some ideas together, yknow? See what does and doesn't work fo- hey!" 

"What?" Allen had been definitely spacing out. 

"Pay attention!"

"I am! Brainstorming, whatever." 

Alfred threw a marker at him, and chuckled when Allen sent him a glare. "What was that for?!" 

"Brainstorming! What have you already tried?" 

Allen huffed, obviously he didn't want to be doing this. Alfred guessed he would rather be having a drink right now, which was not a good thing in the slightest. There was a long silence before Allen finally answered. 

"I've tried going cold turkey and had a seizure, so, we're not doing that." 

Alfred nearly flinched at that and nodded, jotting down " _taper"_ on the sheet of paper. 

"How much do you drink in a week?" 

"Alfred, I have a drink almost every hour." 

"Okay, so maybe every other hour?"

Allen gave him an incredulous look. Alfred just grinned. 

"Fine." 

"And I was thinking...." Alfred felt and looked a little sheepish at the next thing, chewing the end of the marker. He hoped Mattie wouldn't care about the bitemarks he was definitely working into it. "Maybe you could go to an alcoholics anonymous thing?" 

"Absolutely not." Allen shot that idea down much faster than Alfred wanted him to, and he made a little noise in protest. 

"No!" Allen stood, frowning deeply. He almost seemed offended by the proposition. "There's no way I'm going to one of those shitty things! It's a bunch of weird creeps and they'll say weird shit to me, I can deal with this on my own." 

"It'll be good for you! You can talk about things with other addicts, and-"

"Okay, first off, I'm  _not_ an addict."

"Allen-" 

"Second off, they'll just tell me to 'work through it' and 'it'll get better' and other dumb shit! That's pathetic and I'm not pathetic! You should be glad I even let  _you_ help me-" 

"You're not pathetic for seeking help!" 

At this point the two of them had stood up and were yelling at each other, Allen obviously more mad than anything, and Alfred just trying to get through to him.

"What if I don't need help, huh? And you're just blowing shit out of proportion like everybody does? First Oliver, now this bullshit? I'm leaving." Allen twisted sharply on his heel, snatching his coat up from the couch. 

"Stop being an butthead, Allen!" Alfred said, stomping his foot like a child. 

" _I'm not being a butthead!"_ Allen hissed as serious as one can get when using the word "butthead" in a legitimate argument. "Maybe  _you're_ the butthead!" 

"You take that back!" 

"No!" 

"Yes!" 

_"No!"_

_"Do it!"_

Allen made a loud frustrated noise, stomping his foot in a parallel to what Alfred had done not that long ago. "I don't need your stupid help, or the help of some stupid group that's just gonna pity me and make me feel bad about myself! I don't need help from anyone!"

The man crossed towards Alfred, giving him a hard shove on the shoulder. 

"I especially don't need help from dumb blondes who think they know shit, alright?! You don't know fucking  _anything_ about me, but you're acting like you can fix me in some twelve-step program! I don't want your stupid fucking pity, and I don't- you probably don't even wanna date me! This is just a dumb ruse 'cause, 'cause you get off on helping people! You have a stupid hero complex, just like what Arthur said!" 

"Allen!" 

" _No!_ Do you have any fucking idea what it feels like to live like this, huh? No, you don't! You just think you do 'cause you read a stupid WikiHow article on getting over alcoholism and now you think you're the fuckin' Dahlia Lama of addiction recovery. And when you see that I can't be fixed up you're gonna leave me and it's just gonna be me and Oliver's pity again. Stupid pity from stupid people an-" Allen's ranting was cut off by a sharp, ugly gasp for breath through his tears.

The rest of whatever he was saying was lost between sobs and gasps for air. As Alfred watched, Allen's legs collapsed under him, and Alfred swept him forwards into his chest. They sank to the floor together, Alfred's arm wrapped firmly around his friend. It took a moment for Allen to stop fighting, but he eventually surrendered to clutching Alfred's shirt and dampening it with tears. 

Who knows how long they sat there, Alfred holding him as he slowly came down from sobbing until they sat there in mostly silence, besides Allen's occasional shaky breath for air. 

Alfred was the one to break the silence. "I used to be an alcoholic." 

"What...?" Allen's voice broke, strained after crying for so long.

"I used to be an alcoholic. I was one for a while, actually....I've been clean for a year." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah. I know how you feel. I've been where you are. I know what it feels like. Allen, you need help. I can help you."

"But-"

"Let me finish. If I didn't get help when I did, I'd probably be dead by now. You...You deserve the help. You're a good person under all of this, y'know? I just want to help. Please, Allen. Let me in. You deserve to be happy. I want you to be happy."

"I don't deserve anything." 

"Yes you do. Let me in." 

Allen shook under Alfred's hold and began to cry again.  

\-------

It took another day or so to finally convince Allen to go to the alcoholics anonymous meeting. Another day peppered with jonesing for drinks and Alfred sighing and saying  _one_ every few hours. The cravings were still as strong as ever, and everything still hurt like hell. Physically, he was bad. Emotionally, he was worse. Which is probably why Alfred finally got him to go to this meeting. As they stepped into the cold air, Allen nodded slightly to himself. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he thought it would be. 

It was held in a church, which was ironic to him, but he didn't laugh again, cause Alfred gave him a look the last time he laughed about it. Allen followed the blonde up the steps into the building, slowing his anxious breathing. This would be good for him. 

That train of thought was scratched when he walked into a stereotypical meeting. A small group of tired looking people, slumping over in their chairs. Many thin, many overweight. He felt super uncomfortable sitting down, giving a half-hearted wave to the woman who was obviously the header of the meeting. She had pretty blonde hair, that was tied into a braid. She had a stack of papers in her hands, and took a seat. 

"Welcome back everyone," She said in a voice that was soothing, but still immediately grated against Allen's ears. He wanted out, and the meeting hadn't even really started. 

"I see we have a new member in our midst....Why don't we all introduce ourselves to make him feel more comfortable, okay?"

The group muttered in agreement, and the woman stood back up. 

"My name is Emily, and I'm an alcoholic." 

Oh no. 

"I'm Luis, and I'm an alcoholic." 

Oh, no no  _no_ this was not something Allen wanted to do. The rest of his surroundings blurred out as his breath slowly started picking up into hyperventilation. His hands clutched at his jacket. Fuck. They were looking at him. Was it his turn already? Shit. What was he supposed to say? Why did he let Alfred talk him into this? Oh God. 

Alfred's elbow to his side snapped him back to reality. Slowly and on shaky legs, he stood. His knuckles were white from how hard he was clutching his jacket. 

And then he turned and ran out of the building. 

He sucked in the fresh air outside, ignoring Alfred's yelling of his name behind him. He didn't get very far before Alfred had grabbed him by his arm and whipped him back around. 

"Allen!" 

"Let-let go of me, please don't make me go back in there-!" 

"I won't, I won't, hey, hey...." Alfred was talking to him in that stupid soothing voice, and damn if it wasn't working on him. 

"Okay, shh, let's just go home okay? We can try this another time." 

"Can I  _please_ have a drink when we get back, I feel like I'm dying." 

"One." 

"One. I promise."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof what a chapter
> 
> ty for reading!! comments keep me motivated!!
> 
> alsomighthavetoeditsomestufffrommylastchapterwhoops


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